All I can think about is adventures. With mysterious strangers with funny accents and fuzzy heads with crazy ideas. My roommate and I were discussing how we both love to send strangers mail. That's why I thought she would love Amelie. Because the lead character reminded my so much of her. But she didn't. And I think that it had a lot to do with the fact that she was stoned and watching it with her bitter, caustic, bipolar ex-boyfriend.

I digress. I have been daydreaming ever since it got cold and officially became fall. In recent years I have been at a turning point with men, and with art every fall start and I have inexplicably continued the stagnation through the winter. Why? I have this paranoia about being finicky. Especially with men I have been accused (So long ago, I just realized! I don't know why I hold salt to some young guys reactionary opinion) of "leaving" as soon as it get's "boring." Bullshit. If I had better taste in men, I might find someone who's hobby occupation and reason for living is NOT singularly his girlfriend. If I'm the hinge that keeps your life swinging, I'm going to rust, and real fast. Not that I don't appreciate the fatalist romantic, after all I am a libra, but it usually only works in books.

Christ, I never talk about this shit. Good thing this is my "secret" diary. I need advenutre, that's the answer. I have 9 vacation days left in the year, and I'm going to use them only for wild adventures.